Water
by speakingwordsofwisdom
Summary: A series of one shots, inspired by the episode when Rachel tells Shelby about her dads bringing her water whenever she was sad as a child. Better than it sounds. Slight faberry in chapter 3!
1. Chapter 1

I was watching Funk, and it was the bit where rachel tells Shelby that thing about her dads bringing her a glass of water when she was sad, and how it meant she couldn't tell if she was sad or thirsty, and this idea just came into my head.

I've been washing up at work for 3 straight hours, i'm taking a break from my main story, and 'im going to wicked and camden market all in the same week. Does life get better than this? I feel huge amounts of love to everyone, espeacially green skinned witches :)

First glee fic :) Please excuse the fluffy-ness.

btw who else loved the finale on monday?

XXXXX

You're five, bursting through the screen door to the kitchen in a flood of tears, and daddy is at the table sipping black coffee.

"Rache, honey, what's the matter?"

By now, your clinging to his leg, which sort of muffles your words, and anyway, its harder to be understood when your crying and hiccuping but you do your best anyway.

"S-Sarah's mommy said i wasn't a-allowed to play with Sarah and Joseph anymore-"

You don't understand why she was so angry: no one was doing anything wrong.

It was such a hot day, you and Sarah gave up on hopscotch after twenty minutes, and went up to Sarahs bedroom to play with her dollhouse (which has better furniture than yours, but yours is pink and yellow, which means its the envy of every five year old girl within a ten mile radius).

Joseph asked if he could play, even though he's a boy, and a year older than you and Sarah, and you said yes, and anyway, it was HIS idea, not yours: the mommy doll was missing, so he said you should just have two daddies, instead, just like you have.

The game had only been going on for a few minutes, and it hadn't even had a chance to get noisy yet- you all wonderd why Mrs Lefkowitz stared for so long at the two daddy dolls in Josephs hands like he'd done something really bad, before striding across the room and slapping the dolls from her sons hands.

You were too afraid to cry when she seized your arm and marched you out of the room and out of the front door, muttering furiously about "evil influences" and "mortal sins" and "i'll be damned if you turn my son into one of THEM".

You didn't understand much of what she said, except that "them" meant your daddies. And when she orderd you to stay away from Joseph and Sarah in the future- you understood that too...

Daddy scoops you into his lap while you're still trying to explain, and his eyes are sadder than you've ever seen them.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. It's not your fault"

"Why was she so angry? We've played in Sarahs room before-"

"I know"

"Then why-"

"I can't explain it to you right now, baby. I have to... Later on, when you're older, you'll be able to understand better"

"Like when i'm in second grade?"

Second grade is the pinnacle of adulthood, and the door to the second grade classroom represents all that is grown up (espeacially since you've heard you actually get to sing real songs and not just the stupid nursery rhymes they make you sing in kindergarten.)

"Maybe when you're in second grade..."

"Can i still play with Sarah?" You're expecting that he'll say yes right away.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, sweetheart"

You feel yourself starting to cry again. Sarah's your best friend EVER; you've slept over at each others houses, and one time she lost a tooth while she was playing on your swing.

"But Daddy-"

"I'm sorry, honey." His voice is different. Like its caught in his throat. "I'm so sorry. Some people...it's better not to be around them. And Mrs Leftkowitz is one of them. I just wish it hadn't like this..."

His voice trails off, and he hugs you tight as you cry and cry...although somehow you know that crying will not change a thing.

Later on, Dad comes home, and fixes you a drink of water in a tall pink glass, with ice cubes and a tiny paper umbrella, and they let you stay up late to watch Beauty and the Beast on tv.

Sarah doesn't talk to you for the rest of the summer. Joseph smiles at you when you see him at school, and then a month later, you see a for sale sign being pounded into their lawn.

You don't know where they move to.

That night, you shut your dollshouse into your wardrobe and refuse to play with it again.

If you and Sarah had stayed playing hopscotch, none of this would've happend.


	2. Chapter 2

You're six, and pressing the tip of your favourite pink pencil into the honey coloured desk top.

(This is something you already know you are not meant to do, to either the pencils or the tables, and on the first day of first grade, Mrs Lee gave everyone in class a long lecture on exactly what would happen to you if she caught you doing it... but some kids, like Noah Puckerman, do it anyway, just to be bad. You're not like them , not at all, but today, you find you don't care very much about pencils or tables or punishments.)

The classroom is nearly noisy, but not quite, and everyone else is filling in names on the big green cut-outs of trees that are made with construction paper.

Todays theme is family trees.

Your tree is the only tree that is still nearly empty- more than half of the other kids have finished writing the names and are rushing the table at the front to get coloured markers and stickers and glitter glue to decorate their trees.

Quinn Fabray and Kurt Hummel are already fighting over the pastel-coloured felt tips, and you know from experience that soon all the good stickers will be gone... but you still don't start writing.

You can't decorate yet either. The rule in first grade is that all the writing has to be done before you can decorate anything.

All you've written so far is your name at the bottom- Rachel Amelia Berry, big and bold, with all the letters perfect and even. The only thing thats missing is the gold star. You left your star stickers on the kitchen table this morning, so instead of pasting a star, you draw one with a pencil.

It doesn't look anywhere near as good.

"Rachel?" Mrs Lee is bending down beside you to get a good look at your tree.

"Do you need some help?"

She thinks you can't do it, and this makes you mad.

You are just burning to tell her that you write the best and the neatest out of everyone in class, that you're in the top spelling group, top reading group, top EVERYTHING group, and you've never had to ask for extra help before.

This feels like when people assume you're five instead of six, just because you're smaller than most of the other kids your age.

"Rachel?" Her voice grows impatient when you don't answer. "I just asked you a question! And leave the table alone this instant!"

"No, Ma'am. I don't need any help." Your voice is so quiet you can barely hear it, but you do put your pencil back down on your desk, reluctantly.

Mrs Lee appears satisfied. "Good."

But she doesn't move, even though the fight between Quinn and Kurt is getting heated.

"Well, go on, Rachel."

You take up your pencil, but you can't write even one letter.

You'd like to be able to explain everything to Mrs Lee.

You'd like to be able to explain that you can't write your mommys name because you don't have one, that you've never had one.

That although you have two daddys, who you love as much as you can love anything, you've also always secretly wished you could have a mommy as well.

That your least favourite day of the year is mothers day, and that being the only kid in class who isn't able to write anything on the line that says Mother makes you feel like you're about to cry.

That you want to write both of your daddys names down, but that there isn't enough space on the one line, and that you don't know who to write first because whoever comes second will get written underneath, and that it will make it look like you love them less.

That you've been sitting here and trying to decide who you should write first, but its impossible and its giving you a stomachache to even think about it.

Daddy takes you to dance class, Dad takes you to singing lessons. They take turns taking you to school, and they both come to parents day.

They both repaperd your bedroom.

Daddy is the one who sometimes lets you eat candy before dinner. Dad found your barbie, when you were convinced she was completly lost forever and ever.

How can you write one before the other when they both come first to you?

But from the way Mrs Lee is tapping her foot, you can tell you won't be able to explain all this to her.

You open your mouth to say SOMETHING, but she interrupts you before you can finish.

"No excuses, Rachel." She gives you until the count of 3 to write something.

You just sit there.

Mrs Lee breathes out very fast, tells you that you are very, very disobedient, and goes to her desk to write a note to send you home with.

When you look up from your desk, your eyes are hot and your throat is tight and most kids avoid looking at you, like they might catch getting into trouble.

Only Noah looks at you. He's been in trouble so many times he doesn't care anymore, and you don't like him very much, but then he smiles at you, and pokes out his tongue at Mrs Lees retreating back.

Suddenly, you feel a bit better. You like the way Noahs looking at you, like you have a secret, like now you're both the bad kids in the class, the two of you together.

So you smile back at him, and his grin widens. He has a nice smile.

Maybe its because of Noah, maybe its because you're mad at Mrs Lee... but now you want to do something back.

You take up your pencil again, and very carefully, draw a teeny star in the bottom left hand corner of the otherwise-perfect desk.

Noah looks at you with admiration and a little bit of surprise, too.

And you feel brave.

At the end of class, Mrs Lee hands you a folded piece of notebook paper to take home and warns you not to look at it, and the brave feeling fades.

XX

As Dad stops the car in front of your house, you pull out the crumpled paper from the pocket of your dress and hand it to him in silence.

All the way home, you've been trying to think of a way to do this, but you can't. You've never been sent home with a note before, ever, and you just know that they're going to be mad.

Like, really mad.

Dad's focusing on searching for his keys, and when you give him the paper, he smiles, distractedly.

"What's this, Rach?" From his tone, you can tell he thinks its just a painting or something you want him to admire.

He smooths it out and scans it, his eyes narrowing as he reads.

You're watching him, barely breathing as you wait for him to finish, and bite your lip.

After the longest moment in the history of everything, Dad folds the note back up, sighs, and opens your car door for you.

"I think we better talk about this inside."

You trail behind him to the door, fighting tears, and stop couple of feet away when he goes to unlock the door.

"Rachel?"

When he looks back, you keep your eyes on your shoes. After a couple of beats, he sighs again, then comes over to you, picks you up and carries you into the kitchen (although he's said before that six is way to big to be carried like this). Which is unexpected.

He fixes you a glass of water with a bendy blue and white striped straw, and sits opposite you at the table.

"There you go, honey. Now. Do you think you could tell ME why you didn't write anything in class?" He waits. "Its ok, Rach, you're not in trouble, i promise"

Your throat loosens up enough for you to drink some of the water.

After you've explained it as best you can, Dad nods slowly.

He tells you he's going to make a couple of calls, to sort everything out with Mrs Lee, and in the future, to try to explain, even if you don't think the other person will understand. Because then at least you can say you TRIED.

At the table, you drink the rest of your water, and later on that evening, he and Daddy help you make another family tree, with gold stars all around the edge, and pink glitter surrounding the three names.

You still have it pinned to the door of your closet.

xxx

Forgive me for the fluff, you guys. I was just in the mood today xxx


	3. Chapter 3

You're seven, and it's the middle of the night.

Or at least, it FEELS like the middle of the night- there haven't been any cars on the road outside your window for a long, long time; the only light in your room is the sliver of yellow light from your slightly-open door, and a sliver of orange light from the street lamp that has crept through the gap in your pink and white curtains.

The lighted dial the pink watch on your bedside table says its only eleven minutes past ten.

(You are one of the few kids in your second grade class who has been able to tell the time for more than six months, and thats why you have a special, big-girls watch, unlike the rest of the class. You might be quietly jealous of Santannas bright purple, glittery hair bobbles, and Kurts big set of pastle-coloured crayons, and Finns ability to get right to the top of the big climbing frame in half a minute, but YOU have the watch. And thats something to be proud of.)

You can't sleep, although you've been lying here for over an hour now. The rain, that began half way through tap class, has gotton louder and heavier, and now there's thunder and lightning and everything too, which makes it MUCH too loud for you to sleep.

You can't do anything when it's night time- you can't play, you can't sing or dance or draw, and if you're not sleeping, it can get really boring.

All you can do is think.

You keep thinking about what Quinn said today...

xx

_Friday afternoon is the best part of the whole week._

_On fridays, you get free time after lunch, a whole two hours where you can do whatever you want._

_Well. YOU can do whatever you want, because normally, you want to draw or trade stickers with Brittanny (who got a real sticker album for her birthday, with her name on the front in swirly writing, filled with Minnie Mouse stickers) or play hopscotch or house or skipping in the playground with the other girls. Things you're allowed to do in Free Time._

_Puck- who wants to climb on the tables and shoot paper airplanes at people- isn't so lucky. He never gets to do ANYTHING he wants to do during Free Time._

_Today, you're colouring pictures with just Quinn- because Brittanny is off sick, and so Santanna is sulking on the swings- and you can't find your silver crayon, so you have to borrow hers._

_"What are you drawing?" She leans across to look at your picture- it's nearly done now, except for the sky._

_"There's me and there's you...there's your cat...and there's a unicorn. We're putting on a play, see?"_

_Quinn giggles. "Then why's there a tree there?"_

_"Because it's outside"_

_"Why's the sky black?"_

_"It's stormy"_

_"What's that?"_

_"The lightening"_

_"Why?"_

_"Lightening's cool!"_

_It's true- you like storms, espeacially when you get to stay up and watch them. It's irritating when they keep you awake, but the lightening's so pretty and the thunder makes it all seem more exciting, and they're your favourite weather right now._

_"Lightening's scary..."_

_You giggle and carry on colouring. "It isn't scary! It's pretty!"_

_Quinn scrunches up her face and abandons her own picture. "But it's so LOUD! Don't you ever think it sounds...kinda like a monster?"_

_"No!" You stop. "Wait...do YOU think it does?"_

_"I ALWAYS think it sounds like that. The thunders...like, like roaring..." She shivers, even though it's warm inside the classroom. "I hate storms..."_

_"Always?"_

_"Yeah. They're just...horrible. Scary and horrible. Even when you're inside, you can still hear them..."_

_"So...you don't go watch the storms?"_

_"No" She bites her lip "I sometimes hide in my closet when it storms, though."_

_"Why?"_

_"It feels safer there"_

_"Doesn't your mommy mind?"_

_Daddy and Dad both have given you reasons why you're not allowed to play in your closet: Daddy says your might get shut in accidently. Dad says your clothes will get wrinkled. Sometimes, they seem to focus on really different things._

_"Mommy doesn't know"_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Doesn't she wonder where you are when she checks on you?"_

_"Why would she check on me?"_

_All you can think of asking is why wouldn't she? You love storms, but ever since you can remember, whenever there's a storm, one or both of your dads come and ask if you're okay, like one day you might suddenly decide to be scared of the thunder instead of being fascinated by it. _

_Every time, you just smile and say "I'm FINE, Daddy!", and they smile, like "Yes, we know", and sometimes you laugh because they seem so needlessly concerned._

_Only now you don't laugh. You can't even smile._

_All you can think is that while you're watching the storm and not being at all scared, you have two Dads making sure you're alright, Quinn is crying in her closet, and yet no one even thinks about making sure she's okay._

_"Next time there's a storm, just pretend I'm there with you, okay?"_

_"In my closet?"_

_"Yeah. Wherever you are, imagine i'm there. And wherever i am, I'll imagine that i'm with you, okay? Then you won't have to be scared."_

_You're happy that this promise makes Quinn look happier too, while you're at school._

_Now you're at home. All you can think is that its not such a great promise after all, and that it still doesn't help Quinn when what she reall needs is parents who care about her, and that while you still love her because she's your best friend, you still can't fill the gap, even though you would if you could..._

xx

"Rach?"

Your bedroom door creaks open, and your Dads come in and switch on the light.

"Don't cry, sweetheart"

Daddy puts a glass on water down on your bedside table and gives you a hug.

"Are you scared of the storm, baby?" Dad asks, looking all concerned.

You can't find enough words to explain the real reason you're crying, and it's far easier just to nod.

So you do.

XXXXXXXXXX

What did you guys think? I'm a complete faberry/ brittanna shipper btw_and i've never liked Quinns parents either. Storms are awesome, but i can imagine Quinn not liking them, so i wrote this ficlet =)


	4. Chapter 4

Dedicated to angelinthesky, because she writes such awesome twilight fanfiction =) Sorry, this story kind of got off track today, but i hope you like it anyway!

You're 8, and you're hiding behind the coat rack in the cloakroom.

You've just finished reading Harriet the Spy, and although some of it didn't make sense to you, you've decided you like the idea of knowing things that nobody else does, so for the last few days (because you only finished Harriet on Saturday evening, and now its Wednesday), you've stayed in the cloakroom a little longer than everybody else, and watched the last few kids who come inside.

So far, you haven't seen anything thats very interesting. You've heard Mercedes tell Tina that she thinks Puck is the stupidist boy in school, you heard that the real reason Artie isn't in school this year is because he stole a candy bar from the store two blocks away and got sent to prison for a hundred years (but thats probably just a rumour), and you saw Dave Karovsky put a spider into Quinns backpack for a joke (although it climbed out pretty soon, and ran away, probably to tell its spider-friends about how he was nearly kidnapped)...but so far, nothing that interesting.

But today is different! Today, theres a new girl putting her things away, a girl you've never seen before, ever, and so you're hidden here, behind the coats, trying to get a look at her before class begins.

She's carrying a pink backpack, and a necklace around her neck spells out B-R-I-T-T-A-N-Y, and for the entire time she's been in the room, she's been humming the same tune, and she's stayed in tune the entire time! Also, she's tall, tall enough to be in fourth grade rather than third, and she's tied her long hair up into a long plait with cherry-bobbles...and then (what really surprises you) she undoes her plait, shakes her hair out...and plaits it again without even looking in a mirror! You can dance, and sing, and swim, and do most things better than everyone in class...but at that moment, you'd trade everything to be able to do your hair like Brittany, because to your eight year old mind, its just the most effortless expression of pure coolness that you've ever seen.

Quinn's off sick today. At least, thats what your teacher marks her as, all the while muttering that Quinn has had far too many sick days this term, and if things don't improve, she's going to Take Steps.

But you know what Mrs White doesn't- that most of the time, Quinn isn't really sick, it's just that when her Mommy is having one of her Sad Days- when she stays in her room, with the door shut and her curtains closed, and cries, and Quinn has to get her own breakfast- she forgets to bring Quinn to school. And her Daddy leaves for work very early, and he doesn't take her either. But you don't tell Mrs White this- partly because its a lot to explain, and although you like explaining things, you don't think Mrs White wants anything explained to her today, and partly because when she told you, Quinn made you promise (a pinky-promise, the most unbreakable kind of promise) that you would never, ever tell anyone else...

After registration, Mrs White makes Brittany come to the front of the class, and you think she's going to make her Say Something About Herself, like new kids usually have to do, but instead she just introduces her, talking much more clearly than normal, and then explains that Brittany doesn't speak much english yet, because her family have just emigrated from Holland.

And Brittany stands next to her, and tosses her long cornsilk plait over her shoulder and smiles and smiles at everyone.

And everyone stares back.

The first two lessons are maths and history, and there isn't really much of an opportunity to talk to Brittany yet (although you'd like to), so you have to wait all the way until 11 o'clock, which is break.

The rain that started after Temple last night has made the playground a sea of mud, and so everyone stays in the classroom (because It Would Not Do to get the new carpet all muddy, according to Mrs White), and when you find Brittany, she's sitting at her desk, surrounded by lots of curious other kids, still smiling and smiling. They're all surprisingly quiet, and at first you wonder why. Then she puts her pencil down, holds up a drawing of a big fluffy cat, with a red bow tied around it's neck, turns to Mercedes (who today has a red ribbon in her hair), and in broken, accented english, and sign-language, asks Mercedes her name, and mimes that she should write it underneath.

Everyone is craning their necks to see what she is drawing next; you can already see drawings of a dinosaur with green spikes along his back labelled "Puck", and another, of a blue and purple butterfly labelled "Kurt" beside her notebook. Normally, nobody would be so interested in just watching somebody draw but everybody seems to want to watch Brittany. Its not just because she's new either (because Santana Lopez is nearly new too, and hardly anybody paid her any attention), its because she doesn't seem to mind if people watch her or not. She looks like she'd smile just as happily if nobody paid any attention to her drawings. And theres something about that that attracts people.

There isn't enough time for Brittant to draw everyone in class- everyone goes back to their desks when the bell rings, and then its english. You're at a desk with Santana for this subject, although her silence and the way she looks at you with black dark eyes makes you feel strange, and for most of the lesson, you don't really talk to one another, as you get on with writing.

Well, you write. Santana chews her pen, and looks out of the window like shes thinking about being somewhere else. The silence is broken when Noah Puckerman and David Karovsky start flicking bits of rubber at each other, and Mrs White moves David to an empty desk next to you and Santana. He complains loudly: "It wasn't my fault, i didn't start it! I don't want to sit next to the freaks!"

Theres a collective pause. In third grade, pretty much the worst thing you can call anyone is a freak.

"They're so WEIRD- Santana never talks and Rachel never shuts up!" And then, because he can hardly get into worse trouble, and he never does things by halves, as you've seen in the past : "And their families are WEIRD too!"

(In a way, David gets what he wants, because he doesn't have to sit with you and Santana anymore. Instead, he sits on his own, outside the head masters office.)

Mrs White shouts until everyone stops whispering and goes back to work, and you pick up your pen again...but you can't write. You can't remember what you'd been writing about, you don't even care. Freak- the word circles in your head like a swarm of angry bees, and you can feel the sting of it behind your eyes. It hurts worse than anything, and the stupid rhyme you learnt in kindergarten rises in your mind. "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me". Whoever thought it up has obviously never been called a freak in front of an entire third grade class.

When your exercise books are collected, you haven't written more than half of what you were meant to have done, but you don't care. You want your Daddys to bring you a glass of water, and say something that will make everything ok again, like they usually do, but its only half past twelve, there are still hours to go until three-thirty, and you won't cry in class, you won't, you won't.

Beside you, Santana has turned her face away. Mrs White leaves the room for a few minutes, to talk to the headmaster about David and how she Doesn't Know What To Do With That Boy, and you're looking out of the window, and sending a telepathic message to Quinn (I really, really miss you today. School is horrible without you...) when someone appears in front of your desk.

You look up. Its Brittany, holding out two pieces of paper, and smiling, but in a sympathetic sort of way. You take the one she holds towards you and unfold it, and then start to smile again- its a picture of a brightly coloured bird, in a tall, tall tree, singing. At the bottom of the page, a Karovsky-shaped bear runs away from a swarm of angry wasps. Brittany beams back at you, then turns to Santana, who is still turned away.

She says some words (that you assume are dutch), and tries to give Santana her piece of paper, and when Santana turns towards you, her eyes are red. She opens up her paper reluctantly, and then, with effort, manages to return Brittanys smile. When you peek over Santana shoulder to see the drawing, you expect an animal, but instead, the drawing is of two girls with long hair and crowns, one fair, one dark, holding hands and beaming out of the drawing.

Underneath one is written "Brittany". The real Brittany points to the empty space beneath the other, and gives Santana a purple gel pen, who hesitantly writes her own name underneath the other queen.

Mrs White reenters, and begins to herd groups of people back to their seats, Brittany is sent back to her desk at the other side of the room, the lesson restarts, and rain drums on the window sil.

On the page, Brittany and Santana smile twin smiles out at the world, from where they stand, hand in hand, under a yellow sun.

Authors note: I'm not sure when i decided to make this a brittana-friendship fic, but it just happend lol


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Omigod, i can't believe i forgot i'd already included brittany and santana as characters in chapter 3! My mistake- please forgive =)


	6. Chapter 6

You're 9, and you're in fourth grade.

This means that you and Quinn have been best friends for three years, since the third day of first grade, when you figured out that not only did you have the same backpacks (yellow, with the rainbow over the pocket) but that your barbies were wearing the same dress.

(You could've overlooked the backpack thing. Maybe. But the dress thing? No way. You were clearly MEANT to be best friends. Coincidences like this don't happen every day, you know.)

Everyone is excited, because Tina is planning her birthday party,and not only that, but its a sleepover party.

Only girls are invited. When Santana (who talks more and more now that she has Brittany as a friend) asks Tina's mother if any boys will be there, Mrs Cohen-Chang gets a squinty-eyed, pursed-lip face nad shakes her head vehemently, while making the sign of the cross to herself.

Which you figure out means Mrs Cohen-Chang understands that, no matter what your daddies and the teachers at school keep telling you all, boys are just GROSS.

(Except Kurt, sometimes. But he's the only one).

Half of the girls are even more excited, because it'll be their first sleepover party, and you're excited, of course...but not because its your first sleepover.

After all, Quinn has been sleeping over at your house at least once a month for two whole years now.

Of course, thats not the same as a sleepover party.

Its only when you're home, the day after Tina's party, after spending all night eating icecream and playing twister and singing songs, pretending to be pop stars, that you realize how MUCH not the same it is.

You never know what night Quinn is coming.

You never know what night the phone will ring sometime after dinner, and your daddy will answer, listen with his lips tight together and nod again and again.

You never know what night the doorbell will ring, and it'll be Quinn and her mom. Sometimes her mom will be swaying in the doorway and talking too loud; sometimes she'll just push Quinn towards the door and rush back to the car; sometimes she'll have a bruise or a scratch on her cheek, and Daddy will say "I really should call the police, Judy", and she'll nod and nod, "_I know, I know, I've told him this is the last time, the absolute last time, Micheal_", and your Daddy will nod, too, like he doesn't really believe her.

Sometimes, when Quinn stands in your doorway, she's crying or tearstained. Sometimes she's shivering, because they left before she could get her coat, even on the coldest nights; sometimes she's got a bag of pajamas and clothes and stuff, sometimes she doesn't have anything.

But she never tells you anything about home or her mom or why she's at your house instead of her own.

Dad will make her something to eat- soup, toast, usually hot chocolate with marshmellows, which usually you only ever get as a treat,and Quinn will sit at the kitchen table and not look at anyone.

At Tina's party, you had sleeping bags. Daddy puts up the campbed in your room for Quinn to sleep on, but she usually ends up sleeping with you in your bed.

At Tina's party, you hardly slept at all, and even when you did, you woke up lots of times because everyone was talking and laughing all night. When Quinn sleeps over, sometimes you wake up because she's crying.

The biggest difference?

You talk about Tina's party for days afterwards. You never talk about Quinn sleeping over to anyone.


End file.
